The Tainted Age of Sorcery
by caspercumbuddyxi
Summary: What do you get when you cross over Harry Potter with a teen fiction piece written by a preteen? Read this story to find out! Warning: Contains a self-insert Mary Sue.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This story contains high amounts of Mary Sue-ism, and at first I didn't know really what that was, like in chapters 10 and 11, which I wrote when I was like ten before I even knew what fan fictions were. Anyway, later, with chapters 1 - 9 and everything after 11, I pretty much made her a Sue on purpose. There's also a lot of self-insertion because the character of Cinnamon is based off of me and I believe she's the past-life version of me. Alternate Universe stuff too because she's from another planet. This crosses over Dracula (which was bullshit in and of itself, sorry to say), the as-yet-unpublished Tainted Age of Innocence series by me, the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling (sorry in advance for raping your books!) and probably Pet Shop of Horrors by Matsuri Akino (same to you). I do respect the works of Rowling and Akino, but after my 'sister' whitetyger1317 (maybe not on this site but on others) started trying to play godmod with MY series, I stopped taking it too seriously and now I'm just letting it flow, yo._

Before this story is begun, a few things should be explained about Celestial (also called Drakoste) culture. And here they are:

+ Celestia is a matriarchy, making males ineligible for the throne.

+ Most people are surnamed after birds, but some are surnamed after other animals. Dracula is, obviously, a foreigner. He and Setsuna met-- wait, that's backstory. Heirophant's bad, sorry!

+ Girls are named after plants, more often than not landing them with stripper names. For example, "Cinnamon Starling." Boys are named whatever cool thing the parents or heirophants come up with or nab from a favorite book. For example, "Fabrizio," from Midnight Magic.

+ Marriage to multiple husbands and wives, as well as gay marriage, are not only tolerated but embraced. Well, the gay marriage is embraced. The polygamy is merely tolerated.

+ In the beginning, women were bound to whoever took their virginity until he decided to leave her. Then somebody realised that was totally anti-feminist, so now women can leave bad relationships if they want to. Yays for them.

+ Incest is tolerated as long as it isn't parent-child.

The queen is in charge of parliament, not the other way around.

The king doesn't necessarily have to be married to the queen, or even related to her; in some cases when a woman chooses to remain unmarried or her husband is unsuitable for the throne, an election is held.

_+ Some or none of this may or may not become relevant sometime in one of the chapters/stories written by me._

Cinnamon Starling was eleven years old and absolutely gorgeous. She had long candy-brown hair that fell to her knees, pale skin with a silvery glow, a slender body, and silvery eyes that changed color with her mood. She was a nymal, which is a crossbreed between a vampire and a nymph or veela. Either way, the people of her home galaxy of Celestia had decided long ago, works. They were a paradoxical people both embracing and scorning tradition, demanding new ideas while simultaneously shutting down anybody who said something the Eldress Congress didn't like. If this lazy heirophant ever gets around to finishing the Tainted Age of Innocence, of which she is a transcriber, you can learn about it more in detail, but for now, you shall just have to take her word for it.

Her mother, Setsuna Starling-Dracula, the queen of Celestia, had decided to take her five children to Earth after the assassination attempt on her husband, who was either dead or in hiding. To keep them busy, she enrolled them in school. The eldest child and only son, Malachite Fabrizio Starling-Dracula, most resembled the children's father, the famous Count Dracula. He was cold and serious, seeing past all illusion, which was a very mixed blessing. Through the drawing of lots, he ended up at Durmstrang. At seventeen, he'd be getting there pretty late in his education, but then again, the family was of magical creatures anyway and they were only going to school as a hobby. Moving on…

The next children, twin sisters Peruru Vendetta Cupid Titania Marialoha Cinnamon Alira Starling-Dracula (known mostly as Cinnamon) and Brassiletta Daisy Starling (known as Brassi), had chosen Hogwarts in advance. As Fabrizio resembled their father, so Cinnamon resembled their mother, with the lone exception that Setsuna's eyes were always teal and she was nearly anorexic, while Cinnamon was a little more well-fleshed, i.e., not a toothpick. Brassi was curvaceous but thought it sinful. She had slightly tanner skin with the same silvery glow that all nymals possessed, which she tried to hide with concealer. Her eyes were large, like those of a doe, and navy blue. She had a permanent smirk on her round face, and long blonde hair she kept in braid-loops like Heidi. Cinnamon returned Brassi's self-adoring little smirk with a thin smile of her own; the twins didn't get along too well.

After Brassi was through expressing her appall that Fabrizio was going to go to "the bad man's school," it was Fleur's turn. She shook back her straight silver hair and opened her violet eyes wide as she pondered the decision. After five minutes of waiting, Lucy, who was next in line, snapped in her thick Bronx accent, "Either pick something or we'll send you off to a Muggle school."

"Well fine," huffed Fleur. "See if I care." And so it was that she was sent to a random boarding school so insignificant to the story that the heirophant couldn't be bothered to look up or make up a name.

Lucyndah, who had recently grown out of her childhood nickname Cairo, for where she was born and whose full name will be revealed whenever the heirophant remembers it-- for it was some complicated combination of the first Japanese fiction writer beginning with Hatsu or Matsu or something like that, "Lucyndah" of course, and probably some contrived name describing her 'true nature' like Dragonella-- was next. She reached up a hand to tame her literally-flaming red hair and reduced her just-as-red eyes to slits before reminding everybody that she was only eight years old and thus ineligible to attend anything other than some kind of magical day care, and that in fact since Fleur was only a year older than herself, so was she… and everybody in the room flushed slightly except for Fabrizio, who rarely got embarrassed.

"Looks like Fleur just got a classmate at Muggle Academy," said Cinnamon, grinning at her little joke. She'd brushed up on the Wizarding lingo before, during, and after arriving, being a strong believer in learning a foreign place's culture before appalling them with one's intrusive presence.


	2. Chapter 2: Shopping!

_Author's Note: Give me flames, give me lots of flames! I totally deserve it for being a total 'betch!' Caution: Boring backstory and speculation (TL;DR) contained. Oh yeah, and I haven't read the Sorcerer's Stone in like forever so... yeah. "Ze" is an androgynous pronoun. Seriously people, any kind of reviews are welcome. I still haven't figured out how to use this site, so bear with, kk? K. Awesome._

"Did you know," asked a quavering old-lady voice in the robe shop, "I heard Harry Potter would be going to school this year!"

Cinnamon had heard the name floated, and just to appear somewhat knowledgeable, had looked it up in various textbooks. He was going to be one of her schoolmates this year. The name, she thought, was an unfortunate pun of some sort. "_Harry Potter_," she mused aloud. What kind of a name was that-- no, she'd already mentally answered that question. The answer to her next question surfaced in her mind: The kind of parent who named their child Harry Potter was either completely oblivious or a lover of bad puns. This Potter person was famous for surviving a curse that was meant to kill people. So what? the girl thought. He was really no different from a Muggle who survived a gunshot to the head or...

Or even from her own father, had he survived Van Hophead's assassination attempt.

And like most people who'd had a bullet or blade removed, the Potter boy had a scar. The only difference was that no bullet or blade had touched him. To Cinnamon, that just made him a lucky anomaly. As a creature that was not only magical but also otherworldly, Cinnamon could probably survive this She-Knew-Who's (wait, what?) dumb killing curse too. So there.

No, she really _didn't_ know who. His/her/it's name was never mentioned in the textbooks. Ze was always called "You-Know-Who," "the Dark Lord," and "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Cinnamon wasn't even willing to believe that whoever it was, was male if the books wouldn't mention his/her/it's name. She decided it must be somethign embarrassing like Enis Poindexter, or girly like Kelly Tori. If she was embarrassed by her name and happened to be very poewrful, she wouldn't let people use her name either. But that was kind of dumb, she reasoned on second thought; why not just use a nickname? Maybe he just wasn't clever enough to think of one.

Or maybe his parents had never _given_ him a name. Maybe they'd died too soon, or simply hadn't cared enough?

Well, that was his problem, not hers. She'd just call him Nano, short for Nameless Nobody, until she heard, read, or thought of something better.

As for this Harry person, not that it mattered, but he and Cinnamon would be in the same year. Which one of the coed dorms would he be in? Which would she? What were they again? Gryphon-Door, Huff-and-Puff, Slither-In, Raven-Call? She hadn't looked up their histories just yet, but if she had to choose by name, she'd pick the bird one or the snake-sounding one. She'd always liked snakes, and it was Celestial culture to surname people for birds. She made a mental note to study the dorms more in detail later.

Now she turned to thep erson who had spoken the famous boy's name.

"Do you know," she murmured to the dotty old lady, "I never understood humanity's preoccupation with famous people. I'm the crown princess of my homeland, and nobody there much cares, because they understand that a person's character is most important. but if they did talk about me incessantly, I imagine I'd grow self-conscious and weary of it after awhile. I expect this Harry Potter person feels the same way, or will after awhile."

The elderly woman's mouth snapped open and shut, at a loss for words. Cinnamon finished getting her robe fitted, thanked the tailor, curtseyed to the old woman, and left.

She'd thought robe-shopping might be more fun, but as all her robes had to be the same color-- black-- there wasn't much room for variety. She'd sprung for plain cotton (everyday), silk (formal), velvet (bed), and leather (because she felt like it). Somehow her mother had been able to trade in their mara-- the currency of Celestia, which consisted of small objects like buttons, seashells, and glass shards-- to some Muggle-obsessed whack job for beaucoup Galleonage. There was a small fortune for her, Fabrizio, Brassi, and their mother. While Fabrizio had chosen to buy only the barest of essentials, Cinnamon and Setsuna had gone on separate shopping sprees, intent on spoiling themselves while on this galaxy.

On her way out of the shop, she bumped into a young blond-haired boy her age.

"Watch it," he snapped. "Father won't be happy to see my robes mussed."

Cinnamon arched an eyebrow, then smiled. "I know exaclty how you feel. Sorry about that. My mother is always on me appearances and the 'proper way' for a queen's daughter to look. She says if you're pretty enough, you can get away with many other indiscretions."

She watched the boy's face intently to see if her status-drop had had the desired effect. It had.

"What's your surname?" asked the boy cautiously.

"My mother's maiden name is Setarling, of the royal Celestial Starlings, but my father's surname was Dracula, of the Romanian Dracul. Even the Muggles recognise him as a nobleman," she said proudly.

She'd made a mistake mentioning Muggles. The boy looked at her coldly. "Muggles," he scoffed. "Who cares what they think?"

Cinnamon thought quickly, and scoffed right back at the boy. "It means he's _powerful_, genius. Wizards and Muggles alike know him, meaning that his notoriety transcends the boundaries set by the magical community. Romanians tremble at the sound of his name, and even the magical creatures in my homeland of Celestia, where he currently resides, don't know the full extent of his capabilities."

The boy looked impressed despite himself. "Are you going to be in Slytherin?" he asked. Cinnamon shrugged.

"Maybe," she said. "I'm only attending school as an experiment anyway. My brother too. He's going to Durmstrang." She decided not to mention her sister.

"You'll probably get into Slytherin, then," said the boy. He then went on to boast about how his father and father's father before him had been in Slytherin.

"Your family seems very proud," the nymal commented dryly. Blondie boy preened.

"Yes, the Malfoys--"

"And on that note, I should go before my robes start gathering dust. See you at school... Malfoy." A wink and a wave and she was off.

Brassi was shopping for the perfect pet. She could get either an owl, a cat, or a toad. She would have preferred a little toy poodel or a sweetly cooing dove, but like everybody else, she had to accept her lot in life. She refrained from making a dramatic sigh: it simply wasn't ladylike to make a scene.

"Oh, how adorable," she murmured when her roaming blue eyes landed on the _most_ gorgeous snowy owl she'd ever seen. As she reached for the cage, so did a rather large man with a tangled, bushy beard. Brassi finally let out a sigh and dropped her reaching hands. She could afford any pet in the store; she had a feeling that this large hobo could not. She settled upon a pampered-looking white Persian cat and left. She'd already bought her books and had her robes fitted; black was such a dreary color, she thought, but at least learning from books was safer than unpredictable practical lessons.

The jingle of the bell broke her reverie. In walked her troublemaking twin, silver eyes shining with happiness. Cinnamon's eyes changed color with her mood; in a normal state they were silver, but got lighter when she was happy. Now they were practically white.

"I met the most gorgeous boy..." she sighed. Brassi suppressed an unladylike eye roll and tuned out. Her sister was so boy-crazy that it drove _her_ and anyone within earshot half insane. Annoyingly enough, the boys seemed to be crazy right back at her, even if Brassi was around. Did being blonde mean nothing in this world anymore?

"What kind of pet are you getting?" Brassi cut in the middle of her sister's monologue. Cinnamon looked annoyed, but then smirked.

"I would get a toad, but you're already coming to school with me," she said sweetly. "As for airbornes, Fabrizio says he's bringing his favorite bat to Durmstrang with him-- I so wish we could have bats-- so I guess I'm getting a cat. Nothing prissy like a Persian..." She let her eyes land on Brassi's cat. "Oops... sorry," she said without a trace of embarrassment. "Maybe a gray tabby with darker gray stripes and bright blue eyes." As if on cue, one such kitten mewled from the ground at her feet.

"How sweet! Alright, I'm taking this one," she announced to nobody in particular. She noted that the cat's paws were all white, which was kind of cute. Kind of. "I'm naming her Arlena. Have you thought of a name for yours yet?"

Brassi bit her lip and shook her head. "I was thinking... maybe... Anna Marie?" she asked.

Cinnamon hid a giggle behind a gloved hand and nodded. "Arlena and Anna Marie it is," she decided, tossing a small bag of Galleons on the cashier's counter. "Keep the change," she said, feeling generous today.

"Well," she said. "Now that our shopping's all done, it's time for our obligatory family supper before a sleepless night and waking up cross-eyed and cranky just before almost missing the train."


	3. Chapter 3: Save It For the Morning After

_Author's Note: Come on people, don't be shy! Why am I the only one commenting on my own works? Are they so bad that they don't even allow the simple validation of a flame? I take everything people, SERIOUSLY!_

The obligatory family dinner was nothing to sneeze at. There was all manner of food, which was all delicious, and even more so because nobody knew what it was, except Fabrizio, and for once he was kind enough not to say anything that would make them all lose their appetites. They sat at a long oval table made of dark varnished wood, each in a chair of their own preferred style, and chattered about how they thought school would be.

The sleepless night, however, they could all have done without. They would need their rest for catching the train in the morning, but somehow, that wasn't happening. Finally Cinnamon had the idea to encase them all in the nonmelting and unbreakable ice crystals only she could make, which would evaporate upon her mental command. That would keep them rested up for the night.

When they woke up, it was two hours before the train was scheduled to leave. Brassi, ever the do-gooder, was ever so worried about being late. "Oh, don't worry about it," snapped Cinnamon finally, getting fed up with her sister. "Even if we miss the train, what do you think our wings are for?" For everybody in the Starling family had giant wings, either like a bird's or like a bat's; the birds' wings that the females had were their owners' favorite color. Cinnamon's were the exact shade of blue as the Heart of the Ocean in her all-time favorite movie, Titanic; Brassi's were bright fuchsia; Lucy's were fiery red-orange; Fleur's were silvery ice-blue; and Setsuna's were a regular green. Fabrizio's wings were the bat kind, and they were black.

By some work of God (or perhaps Loki or Anubis or some other guy), they were able to get to the station on time, albeit crankily (as predicted). Fabrizio had made it off to Durmstrang already in some mysterious way not explained in the original books and therefore not explained here, but the transcriber thinks it has something to do with a ship. Fabrizio doesn't like water and was therefore most likely seasick. The girls who were stuck at Muggle school had stayed at home without adult supervision and will therefore be gone for the rest of the story unless the transcriber finds some way to make them randomly pop up again.

Setsuna had decided to go mingle with some snobbish-looking blond wizards, leaving her twin daughters to find Platform Whatever-Strange-Fraction-Number-It-Was on their own. They wouldn't have, except a very loud woman with frizzy red hair was complaining about it.

"It's the same every year, Platform 9 3/4..." she was saying. Oh right. THAT was the number.

"Excuse me," shouted a scrawny shrimp with a mop of black hair and pale eyes hidden behind totally unstylish glasses.

"Us too," shouted Cinnamon, "Us too! We want to find the platform too!" Brassi tsked at her sister's unladylike behavior, but Cinnamon just turned around and stuck out her tongue. Take that, priss.

The following two or three minutes were a blur, but the point is that they did eventually find the platform. After the older boys demonstrated how to get on and the sisters had to listen to the ten-year-old girl complain about not being able to go, Cinnamon spread her wings just to show off (she was wearing a backless dress and could thus get away with spreading her wings without ripping her clothes) and flew through the barrier. Brassi tsked again and walked tentatively toward the barrier, bonking into it and falling back, before shutting her eyes and running through it.

"That was so easy," said Cinnamon. "Did you see the look on Shrimp Boy's face--" as Shrimp Boy passed them. "Oh hi," said Cinnamon, only slightly embarrassed. "How old are you, kid? You look way too young to be going to Hogwarts. Don't you have to be eleven? Of course, I don't have to go. My sister and I only need something to do to pass the time while we're here in England. By all rights we should --" Brassi elbowed Cinnamon.

"Oh right. I'm Cinnamon. This is my sister Brassi. One of many, but she's the only other girl old enough to get in. Who're you?"

"My name is Harry Potter," said the boy. Cinnamon blinked, then frowned.

"Oh yeah, the great curse-survivor," she said with a trace of sarcasm. "Hey, enjoy your life while it lasts. If it were me killing somebody and I failed, I'd be going after them again."

"Uh... thanks," said the boy, not seeming at all happy about that.

"I'm just saying," said Cinnamon defensively. "Besides, my dad was a great vampire and he was killed, so I meet some little kid who survived a curse as a baby, not all that impressed, but very bitter. I mean, how is that fair? Anyway," she said as the train tooted its own horn (much like she was prone to do), "we'd better get going. Brassi here'll sit with you if you need a friend, but as for me, I'm going off to find that blond-haired cutie pie I met at Madam Malkin's. Ta ta."

The girls got on the train and found compartments. Time passed. The Malfoy boy strutted into Cinnamon's compartment, looking petulant about something. Cinnamon didn't have to wait long to find out what.

"...thinks he can get on without my help, we'll see, father wants me to get along with him, wait till he hears..."

Cinnamon cleared her throat to indicate that she was there too.

"We meet again, Malfoy. Sit down. Let's talk, get to know each other better before school starts. You seem like you know a lot about it already..."

So they talked, each competing for longest monologue, each waiting for a pause in the other's speech during which they could interrupt. When the trolley came, Cinnamon got one of everything and paid for Draco's share too, as well as the two boys with him, just because she could. She changed unabashedly in front of them (because nymals don't really care about nudity or that sort of thing) into her school robes and stared out the window in fascination when they all stopped babbling about themselves. It was almost nightfall when they got to the school.

...and the author decided that since it was almost five in the morning, it was time to stop the chapter, upload it, and go to bed. Nighty night night, folks.


	4. Chapter 4: Keeping Up with the Starlings

_AN: Where are my reviews, people? T_T I swear, I'm going to whore this to all of my friends until somebody besides me says something. Ok, I realise this chapter's a little bit out of continuity from the last one, because I wrote the segment and then forgot about it, then wrote a new one... but anyway, hopefully it works. I expanded upon Cinnamon's Mary Sue-age here, even though she's kind of a bitch in this chapter. Whateverrrrrr. More dialogue than actual story, but then again, dialogue is my specialty. I made Brassi kind of a snob, which she actually wasn't until she got older, but then again, TAI is my series and I can do whatever I want with the characters XD_

Cinnamon decided to go and visit her sister once she'd changed into a beautiful black robe made of cashmere, and she brought along some other stuff for bragging purposes. Brassi clucked her tongue disapprovingly as she noted her twin's many purchases.

"What is it now, sister dear?" asked Cinnamon, a little bit irritated. Hardly a week went by when the five-days-younger do-gooder didn't find osmething new about her more adventurous sister to criticise.

"You can't possibly think Mother's illgotten cash will last forever?"

"Hardly illgotten!" countered Cinnamon. "It was a perfectly fair currency exchange. Our bits and baubles for Wizard cash, and for your information, I have plenty more of what they call Muggle paraphernalia to sell."

"And what if the gentleman buying runs out of money?"

Cinnamon tossed her hair. "Then I shall simply find another buyer," she said. "Honestly, Brassi, you should shop more. It's good for the soul."

"You would know? You've sold your soul for cashmere robes!"

"And they look fabulous on me, thank you." Cinnamon stalked away, head held high, taking her new clothes with her.

"We'll see how fabulous they loook when you spill something on them in Potions!" Brassi called after her.

xxx

Back in her own compartment, Cinnamon sat down and heaved a dramatic sigh. "That blithering idiot who calls herself my sister may as well be in Hufflepuff already," she said, a little meanly. Draco had been explaining the different Houses, with the general idea being that Slytherin was the best; apparently Hufflepuff was full of whoever the other three Houses wouldn't take, Gryffindor was full of foolhardly do-gooders, Ravenclaw was for pretentious know-it-alls, and Slytherin consisted of noble pureblooded wizards with lineages tracing back to the magical counterparts of Adam and Eve. (In other words, snobs. New York's famous Upper East Side comes to mind.)

Draco laughed. "I can't believe _you_ two are related," he said.

"Yes, but only by birth, so please don't hold it against me," said the copper-haired nymal dryly. "She's starstruck by the celebrikid whos' supposed to be in our year."

"Harry Potter," spat Draco, looking suddenly cross. He didn't need to say more.

"You don't like him," guessed Cinnamon.

"Father wants us to get along, but Potter acts like he doesn't need anybody but himself."

Cinnamon nodded, with the nagging feeling that they'd already had this conversation.

"Let your father meet Potter for himself," she advised. "If he doesn't like the boy, he might stop pushing you to get along. If it's Society friends your father wants you to have, then stick with me. My mother taught me hwo to make friends with the rich, beautiful, and well-reputed."

Draco had the brief sense to look grateful, then resumed sulking about Harry Potter. Cinnamon decided to content herself with the consumption of her candy and the soft texture of her robes.


	5. Chapter 5: Final Prior 2 Me Reading Book

_Author's Note: I still haven't gotten around to re-reading Sorcerer's Stone -_- I fail at life. Whatever. I finally found Chapter Five though, which can be interpreted as a mixed blessing. Enjoy. Brassi's a little snobbier than usual for her character, but the others are IC from the movie more from the book. Yeah. It's THAT kind of fan fiction. Yes, the "Stupid twit" is inspired by the line in Cruel Intentions, where Kathryn looks over at Cecile and says, "That's... one way of looking at it," then when she turns her back, "Fucking idiot." No, the glowing skin is NOT inspired by Twilight. I've had that idea since I was 7 and never bothered to change it. All I know about Twitshit is what I've read on EnDra and heard from friends. I'm horrible at writing athletic scenes of any kind, which is why there isn't much physical fighting in my fanfics. Or really, ANY of my writing. Any typos are a result of me typing quickly, not looking at the screen, and not double-checking; "Cinnamon" might come out as "Cinnmaon," which is a common mistake for me. __**Warning for my ex: contains the word "pet." **__Yes, the analogy about Cinnamon's exercise WAS inspired by Brokeback Mountain. Yeah, she fails at explaining currency to Ron... left out the nickel, dime, and half-dollar... _ She also neglected to mention that the currency she is describing is American and not British. She also fails to say that American dollars are usually PAPER money._

When they arrived, a huge man with a bushy beard that almost obscured his face was calling for first-years. Brassi's navy blue eyes lit up in recognition when she saw him. "It's the hobo from the pet store!" she exclaimed. "This must be his day job."

"Brassi." The girl turned her round face to her sister. "It's nighttime."

"Oh." Brassi looked ashamed. Cinnamon turned to the 'hobo,' raised an eyebrow, and smiled as if to say, 'It's alright, sir. She's a blonde.'

"I am not getting in a ferry run by a pedophilliac hobo," sniffed Brassi. "I'll see you on the other side." And she jumped into the lake.

"Race you there," said Cinnamon, then after her sister was probabliy out of earshot, "Stupid twit." She shed her fine cashmere robe, exposing white skin that glowed silver as if the moon itself infused her veins, and slid into the water. She wasn't athletic by nature, but her elements were water and wind. As nymals, everybody in their family could breathe underwater without gills, which would have given them an advantage over anyone but each other. Cinnamon did have an advantage, however, and that was taht Brassi was as soft and pampered as her new Persian house pet. The most exercise she'd ever gotten was around her tapestry looking for the needle.

Cutting to the chase, Cinnamon won. She wrang her hair out and gracefully let out her wings, folding them around her. She looked up to see that the boats had arrived.

"Has anybody got my robe?" she asked. A redhaired boy handed it to her, slackjawed. She put it on unshyly, folding her wings behind her.

"Bloody hell," murmured the boy; several students around him expressed similar sentiments. Even if Cinnamon had been a plain human girl and not an exotic magical creature, it wasn't many a female, humanoid anyway, that disrobed so unabashedly in front of men. Or boys, in this case.

When the boy picked his jaw up from the floor and his eyes moved to the region of the nymal's face, he said, "I know who you are! your mum came by our house selling Muggle things!"

"Yes, she got a pretty penny for them, too," said Cinnamon.

"What's a penny?" asked the boy as the group started walking into the large castle that called itself a school.

"It's a type of Muggle currency, about the size of a Knut: the color of your hair is a new one but an older one looks more like mine. It takes 25 of them to make a quarter, which is the color of a Sickle, and it takes four quarters to make a dollar, which is like your Galleon. Or rather, my Galleon now."

"Don't mind my rude sister." Brassi's soft whisper of a voice cut through Cinnamon's explanation like an ice sabre in the night. "She likes her little joke. Though you'd think a crown princess would be a little more tactful."

"Rude? I'm not the one who called the big man with the facial hair a pedophilliac hobo!"

"I was only being careful. You never know with those sorts of people."

"That's a really rude thing to say," observed a frizzy-haired brunette with pronounced front teeth.

"See?" said Cinnamon triumphantly. She held out her hand. "Cinnamon Starling. I like you already."

"Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure."

"Ron Weasley," piped up the redhead who'd spoken before. The skinny shrimp started to introduce himself, but then said, "We've already met."

Just as cinnamon was about to say something totally contrived in its politeness, they were ushered into the castle.


	6. Chapter 6: Sorting and Feeding

_AN: The chapter cuts off somewhat abruptly because somehow 1/3 of my copy of HPSS got ripped out of the rest of the book, and so I don't have anything after page 124 with me atm._

Cinnamon was at once impressed by the severe-looking witch who led them all in. She noticed the other students shifting about nervously and resisted the temptation to smirk. Being a princess, albeit one from a land where nobody gave an owl's hoot about stature, she was highly accustomed to public speaking. She looked over at her sister and saw that Brassi wasn't bothering to hide her smirk. When the witch-- McGonagall, was she called?-- suggeswted smartening up, Cinnamon didn't budge. While she was here, she was just another student, not a representative of her homeland. She didn't have to posture for anybody.

Besides, except for her dripping hair, which she'd pulled into a bn before coming in, she knew she looked perfect. Her silver eyes shone with confidence. Brassi, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of primping. Apparently the blonde felt differently about the whole diplomat thing.

While listening in on Harry's and Ron's speculation, CInnamon somehow felt the need to say, "I hope it isn't a physical exam." She smirked when both boys paled. Ooh, she was a naughty one.

She smiled when the ghosts entered, noting that they glowed about as silvery as she did. When the one in the ruff and tights asked what they were doing, Cinnamon piped up, "Apparently we're all standing around. What about YOU?"

As the ruffled one turned red, the portly ghost smiled at them and asked if they were about to be Sorted.

"Sure, if that's waht you call it," Cinnamon called out. Just then, McGonagall reappeared and escorted them to the place where the Sorting or whatever would be held. Hermione Granger made a comment about how she'd read the ceiling was enchanted.

"Well, clearly," said Cinnamon. Hermione gave her a dirty look but didn't respond. McGonagall put down first a stool, then a pointy hat that looked like it belonged to a poor person. Cinnamon smiled and looked up at the ceiling, counting the stars. She was brought back to Earth when the hat began to sing, to a jolly old tune she recognised but couldn't name. Apparently the hat had a high opinion of itself because it could read minds and they had to put it on to see where they belonged. A little eccentric, but nothing she couldn't handle.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," announced McGonagall. Names were then called in alphabetical order by last name, starting with Hannah Abbott (Hufflepuff, poor thing). The portly ghost, who was apparently called the Fat Friar, waved at her as she went to sit at her table. Cinnamon rolled her eyes impatiently. As an S, her name was going to be towards the end of the line. Then again, that sounded like a fabulous way to make an entrance.

She almost laughed aloud when the Longbottom boy became a Gryffindor; she'd seen him find his toad and had expected him to be in Hufflepuff for sure. Also surprising was the fact that Hermione Granger ended up in Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw. Draco ended up in Slytherin, which didn't surprise her at all, and so did a girl named Millicent. A pug-faced girl named Pansy Parkinson also ended up with them, and Cinnamon wondered why good breeding, in the Wizarding world, didn't automatically translate to good looks as it seemed to do with Muggle debutantes.

As expected, whispers erupted throughout the Great Hall when Harry Potter's name was mentioned. She felt a pang of sympathy for the poor kid, who probably had no idea what in the cosmos was going on here. She noticed him gripping the edges of the stool and wondered whether the Hat was telling him something unpleasant, or if he just had to use the bathroom very badly. Finally, it pronounced him a Gryffindor and McGonagall moved on. After, of course, everybody was done cheering for the mop-headed shrimp.

Next were the Starling twins. "Starling, Brassiletta Daisy" was called first, and she was placed in Gryffindor. She went to sit next to Harry Potter, immediately cozying up to the most popular student in school. Cinnamon rolled her eyes, then blinked, realising that she was up next. She hoped that her first five names were left off the roll. Yes, she liked attention, but she thought her mother had gone a little overboard in naming her. Peruru, after the village in which they'd grown up and the _desmodus_, or priest, who presided over it; Vendetta after the particular forte of the Maharus Illybrius, one of the _melymae_, or gods, who overlooked the land; Cupid after the Greek goddess Aphrodite's son; Titania to give her beauty and strength; Marialoha as a promise of richness; Cinnamon because it was customary to name the girls for plants and because it had been the color of her hair at birth; Alira was the Drakoste word for "charisma"; and Starling was the family name. Well, technically Starling-Crow was the family name, but once Setsuna had married Count Dracula, "Crow" was dropped and "Dracula" added in its place.

(Cinnamon also hoped that "Dracula" was left off her last name, as it would give students preconceived notions about her. Since it had been left off Brassi's, she assumed it would be.)

To her immense relief, the name called was "Starling, Cinnamon." Oh, that's right, she recalled. "Daisy" wasn't Brassi's middle name; it was part of her first name.

She walked to the Sorting Hat slowly, savoring all the eyes on her and the whispers circulating about her hair, her eyes, her skin. Seeing as how this hat presumably read thoughts, all she had to do to get her preferred house was to think real hard on it.

_Slytherin_, she thought firmly.

_Are you sure?_ asked the hat, which seemed a bit reluctant.

_Dude. My father was Count Dracula, and you're asking me if I'm sure I want to be a Slytherin?_

_Ah, but weren't you just relieved that Professor McGonagall didn't announce you as a Dracula?_

Cinnamon treated the hat to a mental image of herself crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue at it.

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat announced, probably deciding that it was best not to argue any further, because it was tired and wanted to get over with the last four people who needed Sorting. Cinnamon giggled and cantered over to greet Draco (a dance move she'd made up that was somewhere between a ball-change and a chase). A handsome boy named Blaise Zabini was the last to be Sorted, and also joined the Slytherin table, and then it was over with.

Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster, stood up and treated them all to his idea of a few words (Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, and Tweak) before the dishes set on the table suddenly became laden with food.

"What's an oddment?" Cinnamon heard Millicent murmur.

"Who cares?" answered Draco haughtily.

"I'm hungry," said Cinnamon brilliantly, ending the exchange. She took a large amount of every type of meat and some of the pudding and humbugs, ignoring the vegetables completely. She noticed Pansy looking at her plate with a strange expression on her face.

"What?" asked Cinnamon defensively. "You've never seen a girl eat?"


	7. Chapter 7: Orientation Dinner

**AN: I wrote some of this in the bath and some of this just in my room, randomly. Clearly, she's a Jeffree Star fan, even though I know it's in bad taste to reference Muggle stuff, but hey, what kind of Suethor would I be if I didn't break the rules once in awhile? I wrote it hastily due to the fact that I have surgery in about twelve hours from the time of writing this and need to get to sleep, so since I'll be recovering, I won't be able to update for at least a week...**

"You taste like Heaven, baby. I'll let you crave me lately..." sang Cinnamon softly as she debated when to get out of bed. Hmm. There was something strange about the way that Professor Snape had looked at the mop-headed shrimp kid during orientation dinner. Like he knew him from somewhere. Like Harry Potter reminded Snape of someone he used to know and despise. Or maybe even know and love, somebody who'd broken his heart. Cinnamon smiled softly at the possibilities.

But if Harry had known Snape, he did a very good job of hiding it. He'd seemed surprised when the man had looked at him, accusing, as though he thought Snape had been the cause of his sudden headache.

Drifting off as she sometimes did, Cinnamon let her mind flash back to the orientation dinner. There'd been no specific rule forbidding the students to sit at another House's table, so she'd gone to the Gryffindor table to socialise. She learned that the Irish boy, Seamus something, had parents like Darrin and Samantha on the popular Muggle show Bewitched. Neville, who had a bit of a special-needs look about him, confessed that his magical ability had been latent for so long that his family had been surprised when he'd been accepted to Hogwarts. Hermione Granger and an older boy with hair almost as red as Lucy's were discussing the actual _schoolwork_. Hermione seemed a bit anxious, and Cinnamon felt a brief bout of smugness: She always did well in school, without even trying. As she came from a more magical bacground than anyone else at the school besides her twin, the classes were sure to be a snap.

Then came The Look between Snape and the Potter boy. The gorgeous, if underhygienated, Professor Snape had been talking to a teacheri n a ridiculously purple turban, which Cinnamon could only assume was a symbol of both gay and Arab pride. She nudged Brassi, and pointed at the turban.

"So he's got a demon on his head," whispered Brassi knowingly. "Most people keep theirs inside, but his must have physically manifested. Why else would he choose such awful-looking headwear?"

"I thought he might be a gay Arab," confessed Cinnamon. Neither twin had yet seen his face.

"Possibly a blind one whose demon acts as his eyes," riffed Brassi. Cinnamon laughed.

"I've never heard of sharing your body with a seeing-eye demon," she whispered.

"Look how bored the Potions teacher is," observed Brassi. "He's looking not at the person speaking to him--"

"Ouch!" complained Harry Potter, clapping a hand to his forehead.

"--but at the Potter boy," finished the blonde twin.

Cinnamon had already noticed the look passing between them. SHe doubted a simple dirty look could make Harry's head suddenly hurt. He'd most likely been raised in seclusion from other wizards and was accustomed to getting dirty looks from people who didn't understand him. If Brassi was right and the gay Arab had a demon on his head who must be concealed with attention-getting headwear, it was probably the demon who had made Harry's head hurt. Built-in evil radar, mroe effective than most. Cinnamon felt a pang of envy, then a surge of pride: _She_ hadn't made his head hurt, and she was daughter of a notorious vampire.

Professor Snape, a potions teacher. A man after her own heart. She smiled gently in his direction, thinking it tacky to try to get his attention by waving.

Soon the food cleared up and the headmaster gave his announcements. The mention of Quidditch piqued Cinnamon's attention: She'd have to try out for the Slytherin team. She knew she'd be good at it. She was a natural athlete. The mention of the third-floor corridor also interested her. "Out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." Curiouser and curiouser. For the tune of the school song, she'd chosen Gaudiamos Hodie. Her bright, sweet soprano soared above all the other voices in the room, so though she wasn't last to finish-- that would be the redheaded twins, singing to the tune of a funeral dirge-- she certainly caught everyone's attention. She and the Gryffindors were forced to part ways at the end of the feast. Draco Malfoy didn't seem to be happy about her associations.

"What were you doing, talking to _them_?" he asked. Cinnamon quirked an eyebrow. "They're people, Draco, just like you and-- well, not you and me, because I'm a different sort than you are." WIth that, she scurried ahead, hiding a superior smile on her face. When they got inside the Slytherin common room, Cinnamon stopped briefly to admire the shimmering green walls before intercepting Draco on his way to the boys' dormitory.

"You seem like a gorgeous, sweet, talented boy," she said. "For a human anyway," she amended, "but let's get something straight. I like to try to be friends with everybody, and if you don't like it, I know a fine place for that wand of yours. To outside creatures, you're all alike, so what difference does it make?"

She didn't give the boy a chance to respond as she flounced off toward the girls' dorm and crawled into bed. She'd have to do something about these sheets when she had the energy, but for now they'd do just fine.


End file.
